Fasting and Ramadan: Last Night

I am quite emotional. Tonight is the last night of my fasting. For 30 days during the Ramadan, I have survived whole and alive.

And tonight, the last night of my fasting, I could not help but cry and give thanks to Him that made me stronger each day of the fast.

The Holy Quran says tonight is the night to give and forgive. In my heart, I have forgiven all who have caused me pain and sorrow. Likewise I asked them to forgive me, which I also did in the beginning of the fast.

Quoting from the Muslim's Holy Quran, it says- The good deed and the evil deed are not alike. Repel the evil deed with one which is better; then lo, he, between whom and you there was enmity, (will become) as though he was a bosom friend.

Hating to be self-righteous and preachy and all, I hope I have done better. The Ramadan has taught me a lot. More personal actually, and I hope I can keep it up. Some say I was just another hypocrite, or just doing the fasting for show (how will we know you really are fasting?), and some other judgmental issues they throw against me, but it is not my capacity to judge back. The fact is that I have done what is best for me and for me only. My fasting has taught me how to become resilient, to restrain myself from food and sexual desires and eventual control of myself. A better and experienced person I hope.

And for all of these, I thank Him more than anything. Or anyone.

In closing, I would like to share you these secrets I read as I do my last day of fasting from the book titled The Five Secrets You Must Discover Before You Die by John Izzo:

First secret: Be true to your self.
Second secret: Leave no regrets.
Third secret: Become love.
Fourth secret: Live the moment.
Fifth secret: Give more than you take.

I wish you all peace and good health and camaraderie for the year round. May God bless us all.

Eid Mubarak!

Fasting and Ramadan: Sick

Two days more to go and I would complete my fasting during the Ramadan.

But in the final stretch, my body seemed so weak. I could no longer wake up at 3 in the morning to prepare my food. So I spend the whole day weak, hungry and barely have the time to move around.

Maybe this is a test of strength and patience, so I believe. I have been remiss in my prayers actually and succumb to the pleasures of waiting the breaking of fast.

Patience, patience, patience, that's what my brother Muslim told me.

So these final days, instead of getting more sick, I conditioned myself to make it to Eid. And doing so I could do the giving and forgiving part.

A note on giving, maybe because I am fasting, I realized I have so much graces at home, including abundant food. I never had it before. Before they turn useless, I share them with a needy family.

This is the month of kindness and charity. Be kind to everyone, I was told, even to myself. And so I share.

Fasting and Ramadan: The Invisible Cloak

I made a very long travel over the weekend considering the distance and the time made for travel alone. I readied myself for this because I knew from the start that I would be wearing my invisible cloak and take shelter from it to drive away the temptation I called friends.

It was a double edged-sword, actually. Imagine, it seemed forever to reach Dumaguete and Siquijor by way of land from Cebu. The whole stretch made me feel so tired. And it was a torture for anyone who, like me, was fasting.

My brother Muslim told me that travelling adults were exempted to fast but I tried my best to do mine and keep it intact until September 21. That was the torture part.

Food of every kind swamped me during the course of the travel. My friends insisted that I break my fast. Food suddenly appeared every now and then. Out of their bags. Out from hawkers. Out of everybody. You know Filipinos love to eat when they are tensed. I was alright.

We stayed at Rex's house in Dumaguete last Saturday. Dumaguete is in fact a good place to break fast. Food choices was not a problem.

Sunday came and we braced ourselves for another stretch. This time, to Siquijor. The mad sea made us groggy. I declared that the ferries going to Dumaguete and Siquijor are not real men. They swayed all thoughout the trip and back. Like some ladyboys we saw everywhere.

I succumbed to temptations when our gracious host in Siquijor offered us fresh buko. I texted my adviser if it was okay to eat fresh fruits and drink fresh juice. He told me that I am not a Muslim and I should not consider myself as one. At twelve noon, I thirstily grabbed the buko juice and had my fill. It was heaven. I broke my fast more later towards late afternoon. The invisible cloak was abandoned.

Despite the same torture on the way back to the route we travelled, I again took my fasting seriously, doning my invisibility cloak one more time.

I arrived home intact. A gift from Azary, waiting for me.

Fasting and Ramadan: Gun Shots

I was cowering in fear and was perspiring a lot. Felt so cold and yet perspiring.

I was riding this tricycle driven by a brother I did not know. The trike has a machine gun mounted on it. But suddenly the machine gun was directed at me. Before long a bullet could burst and tore me in pieces, I jumped out of the trike and took cover. I ran, fell, ran, fell and ran. I saw my mother and I took refuge in her comfort. But still the powers of the invasion excused no one. So I ran again and fell again. I could not use my phone because it was traceable. But even if I use my phone, I did not kow whom to call. I ran.

Sudden burst of machine power took over the whole place where I was in. Even the powerlines were quivering in its power. It was like an alien invasion. Doomsday! I sensed a ringing. In my head. In my ears. The ringing was within my ears. It was too loud. I shouted in fear.

And then I woke up to the sound of the alarm clock. It is 3.30 in the morning. Time to prepare for my fast.

Today is my seventh and I could not think of anything in my prayers. I just sat there. Empty!

(Pic from soulpretty.blogspot.com)

Fasting and Ramadan: Hauntings

Today marks my sixth day of fasting. I am very glad I made it through.

Everyday I jot down notes and make blogs, recording my spiritual journey through fasting during the Ramadan. This is a feat I will surely treasure.

I am grateful for my friends who supported me this far. My family did not know this. Had they known they would surely say I am doing a silly thing.

The past days made me walk on a thin line. Everything I do made me vulnerable and emotional. At times, involuntary (and unnecessary) crying precedes prayers. I just don't know why and how this happens. It's like a free-flowing sort of activity. Like it's a part of the process. Sissy stuff.

But then again, prayers and support and a little bit more of an extended patience up to its very limit, I think, made me survive.

Actually, I hate the spirituality crap of this journey. I am not a religious person. Honestly. My friends asked me and even said I am preparing for my inevitable death hence this fasting. Truth be told, that's what old people do. Pray and pray and pray and make indulgences, fasting being one of them. As if prayers and acts of kindness could erase all the sins they have done when they were younger. Some even adopted priests and nuns to make up what they have lost. Kind of silly, actually.

But no matter how much I deny this fact, I could not refrain from putting theology side by side with my activity. This fasting and all. The ultimate answer leads to God, Allah, Jehovah, Yahweh, eternal peace.

And peace indeed I seek.

During this times, my dead ancestors (I hope they rest in peace) paid their nocturnal visits this past days during my fasting. They came as part of my dreams. Which leads me to ask, are they bothered with my observance of "Ramadan"?

My grandparents, my uncles, my neighbors, appeared in a rewind, like an old movie, always reminding me of the past. My grandparents came to me and took me back to the days when they were alive. Awfully happy and without a trace of sadness. My dead uncles visited me too. My neighbors smiled at me too. My favorite auntie is the only remaining dead person who have not made me dream of her. Am I crazy or what?

Whatever these reminders meant, they haunted me through the day. Maybe they are the reason why I am a bit emotional. Maybe they wanted me to discover things. Maybe they are leaving me a message. Maybe they were bored out there and making fun of me. Whatever that is, I am willing to uncover them. I still have about 23 days more to do this. But no! Please, don't leave messages that say it is already the end of the world!

May He will grant us peace and make us all stronger. Alhamdulillah!

(How I wish I could quote a Koran passage here but citing sensitivity to our brothers in Islam, I would not do that since I am not a Muslim.)

(Picture from here and here.)

Fasting and Ramadan: Second day

I woke up to the sound of my alarm clock and mahjong set from a neighbor. I have to drag myself out of my bed, drag my body under the shower and hit the cold water. That woke me up.

Feeling clean, I prepared my food for the day- tuna sandwich and a glass of water. This will sustain me for the day, I thought.

When the food comfortably settled in my stomach, I began my prayers. I thanked Him for the good life I have experienced. I thanked Him for my family and friends. I asked for forgiveness and world peace. Honestly, when world peace came in my mind, my mind wandered off to the Miss Universe pageant. I actually laughed during prayer. 

I felt good.

Fasting and Ramadan: Surviving the first day

I was confused what to eat before starting my first day of fasting. Nobody told me that I should have eaten something heavier. I only ate a slice of multigrain loaf and a glass of water. When I felt relaxed I started my prayers. I felt good.

I went back to sleep since the morning seemed very early and woke up at 9 again. I murmured some thanksgiving prayers and did some yoga exercises. I felt hungry. Ignoring my hunger, I went online and posted some shoutouts. Everyone seemed either amused or confused with my decision to fast. They thought I was converted to Islam.

When noon time came my stomach began murmuring and my mouth was dry, my lips actually cracking. I did a very intimate prayer instead. I didn't know why I was crying during prayers. I could not keep my tears to stop flowing and was literally howling like some dog in pain. I poured everything out.

I realized that I should stop crying or else I wouldn't survive later the day. So again I did some yoga exercises to keep my mind focused.

The exciting part of fasting is, I believed, the test of willpower. Friends became temptations themselves. Some offering you unexpected food. Others offered drinks. I even received invites for lunch and cold beers. I appreciated their concern and turned down the offers. My Facebook was full of ridicule.

But I survived! I have to survive. I felt so drained but alive towards the end of my fast. Everywhere I looked I could see water in a glass. Icy-cold and inviting. I told myself if I have survived the last 14 hours without water why couldn't I in the last few minutes?

I was literally crawling on the way to get a glass of water when Azary called me up and told me to drink hot tea to break the fast. I never expected that. It was like pouring cold water to a raging fire, but I did.

I was peacefully sipping tea while watching the kids play some bloody games in my computer. I sipped some more green tea after my dinner of fish, chicken and dried fish.

Life is good. Alhamdulillah!

(Picture from objectsandevents.blogspot.com)

Worth knowing today

It's Ash Wednesday, the first day of the Christian calendar's Lenten season. Try not to torture your observant friends too much as you enjoy the drinks/ snacks/ contraband/ swearing/ anything else fun that they've sworn off for 40 days. Then again, it doesn't really count if they're not tempted, right?

Menstyle.com

So Many Questions... The Answers Few

Not having a good night sleep, I was startled when I heard an early morning prayer call from a nearby Moslem mosque here in Tagbilaran. I remember that long time ago, Moslems who do their prayer calls were bombarded by nasty comments in the radio because they were disturbing the majority of the Christian populace. And as I contemplate on its significance, the rhythmic singsong was suddenly interrupted by a chorus of Catholic women singing praises to the Virgin Mary in a dawn rosary. In my entire life, I haven’t heard someone blaming the dawn rosaries of disturbing a night’s sleep.

I was rather amused, in fact I was giggling in bed. I never considered the diversity of culture right here in Tagbilaran City and what the city has become nowadays. Before it were just church bells ringing in the early morning, calling the flock to mass. I no longer hear the bells though but instead a recorded chime or something is played every time. I was wondering if the priests invented this to brag about their new-found technology, which is unfashionable rather than hi-tech, by the way. And I wondered too if people noticed or just didn’t care. Blind obedience? I would rather consider the Moslem prayer call as authentic (culture-wise) despite the use of technology (they use microphone and sound system we called trumpa).

This also reminded me of a discussion from my friend who is assigned in Tagbilaran as of the moment. She noticed that every time she introduces a new concept in the office, her minions would readily accept it but later would do everything to make the concept fail and hound her like a pack of dogs waiting for the kill, her words.

I know Boholanos have the tendency to wait and see to the extent of being subservient. This passive attitude enables the local government executives to be corrupt, sometimes blatantly. When a crier exposes these wrongdoings, almost always, it is the crier who becomes the phony and likened to the boy who cried wolf.

And these troubled me. Was this the reason why the Dagohoy rebellion became successful or un-successful? Is the pack mentality a Boholano trait or an acquired characteristic?

Too many questions…

*
Photo from http://vincentvanderveken.com/