Ramadan Redux II - The Power of Being Empty

In his illuminating Friday talk about the fast of Ramadan, just before the start of the sacred month this year, Shaykh Fadhlalla Haeri said that, 'The more you are disconnected with the outer, the more you are possibly connected to the inner'. 

Fasting, and particularly the fast of Ramadan, is a powerful way to increase that inner connectivity. The dawn to dusk restriction on alimentation and distracting stimulations of other kinds is a guaranteed way of strengthening self-awareness and emptying out the subtle idols tucked away in the heart. Maulana Rumi captured this truth beautifully in his poetry shared here. My commentary on some of the poem's highlights follows it.

There’s hidden sweetness in the stomach’s emptiness.

We are lutes, no more, no less.

If the soundbox is stuffed full of anything, no music.

If the brain and belly are burning clean with fasting,

every moment a new song comes out of the fire.
The fog clears, and new energy makes you run
up the steps in front of you.
Be emptier and cry like reed instruments cry.

Emptier, write secrets with the reed pen.
When you’re full of food and drink,
Satan sits where your spirit should,
an ugly metal statue in place of the Kaaba.
When you fast, good habits gather
like friends who want to help.
 
Fasting is Solomon’s ring.
Don’t give into some illusion and lose your power,
but even if you have, if you’ve lost all will and control,
they come back when you fast,
like soldiers appearing out of the ground,
pennants flying above them.

A table descends to your tents, Jesus’ table.
Expect to see it, when you fast,
this tablespread with other food,
better than the broth of cabbages.*

(Ghazal No. 1739 from Divan-e Shams-e Tabrizi)

We often associate empty stomachs with pain and suffering. But the fast of the Muslim in fulfilment of Allah's command is transformed from deprivation into something else - at the very least, a sweetening joy at being able to carry the intention through. The accumulating effects of being under-fuelled calorifically and intentionally fasting on multiple sensory levels reconnects us to our source of power and re-attunes us to the modus of being a vessel through which divine purpose can be achieved.


Rumi uses musical imagery abundantly in his poetry. The idea that we are vessels through which music is made - through which the soul can speak in another language altogether more richly than speech - accompanies the allegories of the reed and lute. A lute lies silent in the hands of its master until it is plucked and pressured just so, and then the harmony of notes it creates can transport us to other dimensions of being. If we are to express the music of our beingness we must be empty, hollowed out inside - which the fast effectively does. Belly and brain are clearly connected, and once they are burnished with the fire of fasting, new notes can sound. The white noise of interior chatter subsides and we can start to hear the harmony of  what IS.

Rumi urges us to keep emptying out, to be like the hollow reed that gives voice to the soul. For in that state where you are empty of your 'you-ness'. of your ego-self, of the fantasy of your importance, history, personality and actions, your emptiness then renders your form worthy of another form of expression: inscribing the truth with the ink into which you can dip your hollow reed, putting it to the use for which it was created. 

Satiation, or rather, permanent satiation dulls the senses and blunts sensitivities. Here Rumi alludes to the Prophetic tradition which describes how 'Shaytan flows through Adam like blood, therefore constrict his passageway by hunger'. That mischievous, wayward, troublesome, impulsive energy of Shaytan is fueled by an abundance of kilojoules, or rather, an excess of  potentially misguiding energy. In Arabic the word Shaytan derives from the verb ShTN, to be cast off the path, to be flung far off the way. For me this conjures up the imagery of jagged and static interference rather than a horned red devil with a pointy tail. To the sensitively attuned,  static interference is painful and disturbing (almost excruciating!), rather like the net effect of following the dictates of Shaytan. The easiest way to control this fizzing random energy is to cut off its fuel supply by fasting. The result is instantaneous!



If allowed, this presence of forgetfulness and waywardness - of disobedience even -can take over. Rumi sees it as dislocating the spirit - something amorphous, intangible and of divine origin - with an' ugly metal statue' instead of the sublime clean lines of the empty Ka'bah, ultimate symbol of the central focus of the heart, the sanctuary of God. Historically of course, the Ka'bah had housed effigies of the pre-Islamic gods worshiped by the Arab tribes. As far as I know most of the reputed 360 idols were made of stone or wood, but if the material of some were metal, then this would allude further to their stiff intractability and cold lifelessness.

What are the good habits that might accrue from fasting? Sensitivity to the plight of others, to those who never get to fill their bellies once, let alone three times a day. Action to help others, to share, to alleviate their suffering, to give them ease. Good habits like withdrawing from frivolous social discourse, spending time wisely, being mindful in every endeavour or intention and conduct, increasing time spent in prayer and dhikr.  Fasting re-acquaints us with what it feels like to be pure.

And these habits are 'like friends who want to help'. The more you do good, the more refined your actions, the easier it becomes to perpetuate them. The barakah is inbuilt. I particularly appreciate the idea of habits as friends, for it reflects not on our essence, but on who we become through our actions and choices. We exist and act in the realm of Mulk but in the Malakut and Jabarut we are in tact spiritually;  what goes on in the Mulk can affect us on subtler levels. By persistent inappropriate actions we can deform ourselves and become removed from the conscious awareness of being in the sacred precinct. Good habits act upon us to keep us there.

Legend goes that when Solomon (Hazrat Sulayman, upon him be peace) had his ring he was powerful beyond all human imaginings. With it his dominion was held in balance. Yet he lost his ring - wrested from him by an evil Demon called Sakhr who then took over his throne - and supposedly with it all his powers and was dethroned. In the Sufi Weltanschaung enlightened beings do not react to apparent misfortune with dismay but equanimity. Hazrat Sulayman never flinched at the loss, for he knew that the power was not imbued in the ring, but merely symbolized by it. In truth, the power lay within him by the grace of God.

Legend further has it that the ring was returned to him in the belly of a fish, which had been given to him by a fisherman out of pity as he was wandering destitute. From Rumi's words we can infer that a prophetic being of Soloman's stature, however, would not have cared for all the power given to him, for it was God's alone to give or take away. The belief that you have power of your own is a persuasive illusion, but one from which you can be relieved by fasting, for then you experience how weak a being you really are, so dependent on physical nourishment for your ability to just operate basically. There is no real independence! To know this is to disappear into utter humility.


Many of us fear the weakness brought upon us by fasting. We fear that it will diminish us in our daily powers. At the level of survival fasting is contra instinctual. And yet, by the moderated weakening of outer sensory faculties, our complementary inner faculties are gradually enhanced. You have no choice but to submit! So even if you do fall into the trap of believing you have lost your powers - which are Allah's in the first place but just devolved onto us - through the fast your weakening is transformed into a strengthening of certainty and resolve that all is by Allah, from Allah and unto Allah.  

And then, just as happened to Solomon, help and means manifest. He regained his throne and power and went on to build the famous temple, for the legions of obedient soldiers symbolize the capacity to execute will. During the trial of a day of fasting, we might be rescued by a verse of Qur'an, by a cooling wudu', or indeed, by the relief of fast-breaking itself. And by that enhanced awareness we will find ourselves blessed with 'other food', honoured and elevated, as Jesus' table is mentioned in the Qur'an as a sign of reassurance of God's truth:

[And remember] when the disciples said, "O Jesus, Son of Mary, can your Lord send down to us a table [spread with food] from the heaven? [Jesus] said," Fear Allah , if you should be believers. They said, "We wish to eat from it and let our hearts be reassured and know that you have been truthful to us and be among its witnesses. Said Jesus, the son of Mary, "O Allah , our Lord, send down to us a table [spread with food] from the heaven to be for us a festival for the first of us and the last of us and a sign from You. And provide for us, and You are the best of providers.""[5:112-114]. 

Would any of us swap cabbage broth, the humblest and poorest of dishes, for the higher order of nourishment that comes from being empty and emptier?

* Trans. Coleman Barks

Ramadan Redux

Fasting and feasting - the ancient and natural rhythm of life. Constriction and expansion. Scarcity and plenty. Withholding from and abandoning unto. Outer attention and inner awareness. Sight and insight. For me Ramadan is about all these things.

Ramadan in Pakistan is also about togetherness, caring for others and Ramadan road rage (theirs, not mine - it usually occurs in the last half hour before sunset as people rush to reach home in time). My daughter says for her its about introspection and appreciation and I would heartily agree. Its that inward looking quality that comes with the territory that makes it so compelling. Time to attend to the inner self, the interior world, empty it out of thriving idols, polish the mirrors, reduce the hissing vipers of negative thought, opinion and judgement.


I'm not sure why but the lead up to Ramadan often seems imbued with a mounting frenzy. An internal pressure builds up to complete tasks and tie up loose ends in order to free myself for the month. Having been abroad this year during that period, the whirl of coffees and meals out with friends has felt slightly beyond my control. For all my enjoyment of the feasting with dear friends, I am longing for the fasting and withdrawal. And living in a Muslim country, the communal consensus on the change of life's daily rhythm  heightens the sense of the sacred and  makes the transition sweeter. What a luxury not to have to explain to anyone why one isn't eating! And how liberating to feel perfectly justified to spend time alone, read and reflect!

Of course, life doesn't stop during this month, though work days are shortened and afternoon siestas become necessary. Food markets seem as busy as ever, with our local snack bars selling samosas, pekoras, dehi bare, aloo papray chaat and suchlike, seeing a huge increase in business. Mosques suddenly fill up like never before as people rush to assuage their guilt over their prayer deficits, or earn more divine favour by increased prayers.Completing the reading of the Noble Qur'an during this month is also often achieved through the medium of the optional but customary Tarawih* prayers, wherein some Imams recite a juz' every evening during the Tarawih, while other more ambitious ones may recite 3 a day over a period of ten days.

In my own household, kitchen 'Domestos' continues apace, albeit in modified form.  Not everyone is able to fast, so lunches still have to manifest. And then there's the 'iftaari'. Growing up in my own more Middle Eastern influenced family, fast-breaking was observed simply with dates and water, maybe a broth and then prayers. Dinner would only then follow, and invariably it would be healthful soups, stews, rices, salads and maybe a rice pudding or some other soft dessert. It was impressed on us the need to eat right in order to enable the blessings of Ramadan to flourish, rather than allow poor diet to interfere with this sacred time.


Iftar or fast break in Pakistan is a much grander affair - celebratory almost. When I first moved here I had declared my home a pekora free zone - I simply couldn't get my mind around the idea of fried foods for 'breakfast'. Gradually as my children grew up and acclimatized to local fare the demand grew for these unconscionable delicacies - and I happily admit one cannot deny the tastiness of fresh home-made pekoras and samosas. My son would disappear to break fast with the staff, as he found their iftar more appetizing than the wholesome chickpea salads, yoghurt dishes and fruit salads I preferred to offer. So in spite of my avowal, over the years the frequency of said fried items appearing on our iftar spread started to increase. If you can't beat them, join them! Like a salmon tired of swimming upstream to spawn, I found nothing around me corroborated with my own ideas about what was culinarily appropriate. My resistance eroded in direct proportion to the desire to please.


The Prophet (S)  famously declared that for most of his followers, fasting represented nothing more than hungry bellies, and praying meant tired knees. Even then he had identified the pitfall of mindlessness in acts of prescribed worship. If we only engage with our rites of worship with attention to form, they can easily become empty. But with mindfulness of the inner meanings, they become gateways to inner vistas of stillness and sublime silence. The withdrawal and withholding of Ramadan allows multiple layers of awareness to descend on us: from seeing how weak and dependent we are on our habits, to heightening our compassion and awareness of the needs of others, to refreshing our knowledge of the Qur'an al-Karim,  to savouring the sweetness of extended periods of invocation, and generally to bask in a feeling of lightness that evokes qualities of true Light. Reducing the sway of the appetites of the self increases the divine light that already reflects in us.

Fasting is the fast track to inner witnessing par excellence. Gradually the interior white noise starts to shrink to a whisper. Caverns of inner silence expand. The sense of beingness mushrooms, filling all the inner matrices. Ramadan is truly a sacred time for renewal. And of all our prescribed worships, this one is the most invisible: only Allah can know if we have truly fasted, on the level of alimentation, speech, intention and action. And thus it is that He declares that He will be its reward. Such an intimate promise, so sublime. To fast for the love of Allah alone, in obedience to His call to remember Him and only Him - that intention can only be met with direct Divine Grace.


Glossary:
Iftaari, iftar: literally fast breaking.
Juz': A portion of the Qur'an, specifically, one thirtieth part.
Pekoras: Gram flour fritters seasoned with vegetables and spices.
Qur'an al-Karim: The Noble Qur'an.
Tarawih: Special Ramadan prayers recited after the last evening prayer.

*Originally optional, Tarawih was instituted as a congregational prayer by the second caliph Umar, with the number of rak'at differing according to which school of law is followed (20 for the Hanafis, for example). The Prophet had always recommended night prayers be done, especially during the month of Ramadan (a total of 11 rak'at).

Waxing Moon

A full moon is waxing. Through the tenebrous veil that coyly mists in front of the luminous silver disc hanging 45 degrees above me in the navy ink sky, I can see it has yet to achieve its full roundness. The Indian Ocean surf shushes rhythmically in counterpoint to the cool evening breeze brushing through the bank of sugarcane ringing the seaward garden.

Every now and then the clouds part enough to illuminate a patch of sea. The marine mirror only shines as clearly as the clouds vaporize thinly enough. It’s a tantalizing display, as mesmerizing as watching flames from a fire licking and dancing into a chimney flue. The slow sail by of sooty clouds keeps my attention. I find myself longing for the relief of full disclosure, but I am being teased.  And now the clouds knit thick and impenetrable.

Reality has left a trail of itself in every scene and instant. Oblique hints abound. Discover me it says. Here, it’s easy. Just look around you. Glory be! How marvelous is the perfection of it all.

Suspend the interference of the self and Reality is self-evident.

Yet, as I’ve blogged before, removing the self entirely is impossible and besides the point. We can only experience this reality through it, or, rather, by transcending it. At the beginning it is all about self-awareness, and later it evolves into steady awareness of the ONE SELF – the oneness stuff from which we have all derived.

The best we can do is to thin out the veil and polish the mirror. And whether we like it or not, Reality will conspire to do the same. Can you put a price on freedom of the heart? The heart which Allah subhanahu wa ta’ala described as: ‘The Heavens and Earth do not contain Me but the heart of the mu’min contains me’.