Showing posts with label ramadan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ramadan. Show all posts
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Revealing Ramadan, Take 2
The same day I posted my previous Revealing Ramadan blog post, I got an email from the good people at Speaking of Faith. I did a brief interview with them today, and read my Ramadan piece. Same for Jen. Not sure if they'll be posting the audio, but the piece is now on the website, here. Enjoy!
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Revealing Ramadan
My dear friend Jen let me know about this fabulous website for NPR's Speaking of Faith program. They're doing a "Ramadan special" where they've asked Muslims to write in with their personal reflections on Islam and/or Ramadan. Some were chosen to air on the radio. Others were chosen to show on the site where you can read them. Jen's is here.
Mine was sent in, but doesn't seem to have made the cut. Since I liked it though, I decided I'd share it with you here.
Don't forget to check out the rest of the stories and reflections on the site. I really enjoyed seeing so many different perspectives.
When I think of Ramadan, I think of many things, but the first is almost always my mother, up before the rest of us an hour and a half before dawn to prepare the food we would sleepily consume in the last half hour before the fast began.
My mother, a doctor with a strong interest in nutrition, was always sure to get as much protein into our systems as possible: there were scrambled and boiled eggs, fava beans slow-cooked the traditional Egyptian way, tuna salad. But there was always something for our teenage taste buds: My mother would wake us up with home-cooked french fries, still sizzling on the plate. Into our bedroom she would sweep, singing “wake up, wake up, your food has come to you” in a jolly voice, and as I rolled over on the top bunk to face her, I would find a handful of hot, salty fries stuffed into my mouth before my eyes were even open. It certainly was an effective tactic.
When we were younger, we would “fast” from breakfast until lunch and then from lunch until dinner, feeling for the first time what it was to have sustained hunger, to not cure it immediately with a stop at the fridge or the cupboard. The pangs in our stomachs would knot first, then twist, and there was something so satisfying about not succumbing, about defeating that part of ourselves that cried out to be served, to be given now now NOW!
Experience is learning, is knowledge, and the value of that knot in the pit of my stomach can never be underestimated. I knew, ever so briefly, what it was to want; knew the slight pain, the slight light-headedness that came with it; but more than anything, knew the gratitude of sunset, of taking that first sip of water, that first sweet bite of a date, sweet and soft and buttery, melting on my tongue. And as I got older, I knew too the gratitude of having that water, that date, having what so few have, and especially what so many everywhere can't reach: a fridge full of food; a house with a roof; a blanket to cover my bed; a loving mother who would wake up in the middle of the night to make sure her daughters were well-fed before the fast began.
My father broke his fast with a glass of hot milk, heated to the point of scalding in the microwave, nearly foaming at the top, and three or five dates to go along. It was my father who taught us the supplication to make when breaking our fast:
“Oh God, for you I have fasted, and from your blessings I have broken my fast, and on you I depend, and in you I believe”. And then each one of us would turn inward and think of what she wanted and pray a private prayer, just between her and God, before that first bite, that first sip. It could be anything: I would pray for a good grade on an upcoming test, for a class trip somewhere fun, to get out of babysitting that Friday at the mosque, for forgiveness for my sins – a rude word, a look of ridicule, the missing of one of the five daily prayers.
After the dates and milk we would pray our sunset prayer before having a proper meal, and there we would stand, my mother, my three sisters and I behind our father, reciting the Quran, choosing, somehow, the verses that would nudge our hearts that particular day, his words poetry, a calling to God.
Mine was sent in, but doesn't seem to have made the cut. Since I liked it though, I decided I'd share it with you here.
Don't forget to check out the rest of the stories and reflections on the site. I really enjoyed seeing so many different perspectives.
When I think of Ramadan, I think of many things, but the first is almost always my mother, up before the rest of us an hour and a half before dawn to prepare the food we would sleepily consume in the last half hour before the fast began.
My mother, a doctor with a strong interest in nutrition, was always sure to get as much protein into our systems as possible: there were scrambled and boiled eggs, fava beans slow-cooked the traditional Egyptian way, tuna salad. But there was always something for our teenage taste buds: My mother would wake us up with home-cooked french fries, still sizzling on the plate. Into our bedroom she would sweep, singing “wake up, wake up, your food has come to you” in a jolly voice, and as I rolled over on the top bunk to face her, I would find a handful of hot, salty fries stuffed into my mouth before my eyes were even open. It certainly was an effective tactic.
When we were younger, we would “fast” from breakfast until lunch and then from lunch until dinner, feeling for the first time what it was to have sustained hunger, to not cure it immediately with a stop at the fridge or the cupboard. The pangs in our stomachs would knot first, then twist, and there was something so satisfying about not succumbing, about defeating that part of ourselves that cried out to be served, to be given now now NOW!
Experience is learning, is knowledge, and the value of that knot in the pit of my stomach can never be underestimated. I knew, ever so briefly, what it was to want; knew the slight pain, the slight light-headedness that came with it; but more than anything, knew the gratitude of sunset, of taking that first sip of water, that first sweet bite of a date, sweet and soft and buttery, melting on my tongue. And as I got older, I knew too the gratitude of having that water, that date, having what so few have, and especially what so many everywhere can't reach: a fridge full of food; a house with a roof; a blanket to cover my bed; a loving mother who would wake up in the middle of the night to make sure her daughters were well-fed before the fast began.
My father broke his fast with a glass of hot milk, heated to the point of scalding in the microwave, nearly foaming at the top, and three or five dates to go along. It was my father who taught us the supplication to make when breaking our fast:
“Oh God, for you I have fasted, and from your blessings I have broken my fast, and on you I depend, and in you I believe”. And then each one of us would turn inward and think of what she wanted and pray a private prayer, just between her and God, before that first bite, that first sip. It could be anything: I would pray for a good grade on an upcoming test, for a class trip somewhere fun, to get out of babysitting that Friday at the mosque, for forgiveness for my sins – a rude word, a look of ridicule, the missing of one of the five daily prayers.
After the dates and milk we would pray our sunset prayer before having a proper meal, and there we would stand, my mother, my three sisters and I behind our father, reciting the Quran, choosing, somehow, the verses that would nudge our hearts that particular day, his words poetry, a calling to God.
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
A post about coffee (which I've been meaning to write for weeks)
You will not believe this... Not if you've read my previous mentions of my coffee addiction, including my complete failures the last two Ramadans to not drink it before starting to fast. Are you ready? Drumroll.............
I QUIT! I, Noha Beshir, professed coffee addict of over 10 years, lover of the Second Cup Paradiso blend, the Timothy's Vanilla Soy Latte, and the regular old Large Timmy's with one milk, have not had a coffee in over three weeks. And, the coffee I consumed three weeks ago was simply due to the fact that I was a counsellor at youth camp, chasing around many lovely, high strung teenage girls on less than 2 hours of sleep for the second day in a row. Before that, I had gone two weeks without coffee as well.
I won't lie: the first 5 days of non-coffee drinking were brutal. Headaches, exhaustion, all that good stuff. But now, I'm smooth sailing. When I'm tired, I try to sleep instead of caffeinating, and I think I'm generally a (slightly) less bubbly person. But yeah: Noha, without coffee. Whoda thunk it, eh?
I QUIT! I, Noha Beshir, professed coffee addict of over 10 years, lover of the Second Cup Paradiso blend, the Timothy's Vanilla Soy Latte, and the regular old Large Timmy's with one milk, have not had a coffee in over three weeks. And, the coffee I consumed three weeks ago was simply due to the fact that I was a counsellor at youth camp, chasing around many lovely, high strung teenage girls on less than 2 hours of sleep for the second day in a row. Before that, I had gone two weeks without coffee as well.
I won't lie: the first 5 days of non-coffee drinking were brutal. Headaches, exhaustion, all that good stuff. But now, I'm smooth sailing. When I'm tired, I try to sleep instead of caffeinating, and I think I'm generally a (slightly) less bubbly person. But yeah: Noha, without coffee. Whoda thunk it, eh?
Saturday, September 06, 2008
Iftar
This is the word for "breakfast" in Arabic, both breakfast when you're having it any day in the morning, and breakfast when you're breaking the fast after a day of no food, no drink, no bad behaviour, no blowing up...
Back in university, we would be sitting in the computer lab pre-iftar. At first, this was "the Cube", a grey little cube shaped building filled with computer stations, for Computer Science students, and then we would be in the cornily named "library of the future", in the basement of the SITE building, once it existed. We would be scrambling to finish up some assignment or another, perhaps writing the last few difficult lines of code, or hitting compile and praying there would no compile errors, knowing we still had the horrible run-time errors to face. Maybe we'd have already found them; maybe we'd be debugging slowly, exhaustedly, ready to pull our hair out from the effort at looking the same line that seemed fine but was clearly throwing our whole program into disarray. Or, possibly, we'd have given up on all of the above, and had our programs open in some random window on the computer but were only pretending to work. Possibly, instead we were chatting, or checking hockey scores, or surfing away those last few minutes until we had a mandated break to break our fast and clear our heads of the "if-thens" and "elses" of the code that had started to infest our heads...
The SITE building was on one end of campus and Iftar was in the University Centre (shortened to the Uni-Centre, because what's the fun in saying the whole name of anything?), and we had two options to get there:
Back in university, we would be sitting in the computer lab pre-iftar. At first, this was "the Cube", a grey little cube shaped building filled with computer stations, for Computer Science students, and then we would be in the cornily named "library of the future", in the basement of the SITE building, once it existed. We would be scrambling to finish up some assignment or another, perhaps writing the last few difficult lines of code, or hitting compile and praying there would no compile errors, knowing we still had the horrible run-time errors to face. Maybe we'd have already found them; maybe we'd be debugging slowly, exhaustedly, ready to pull our hair out from the effort at looking the same line that seemed fine but was clearly throwing our whole program into disarray. Or, possibly, we'd have given up on all of the above, and had our programs open in some random window on the computer but were only pretending to work. Possibly, instead we were chatting, or checking hockey scores, or surfing away those last few minutes until we had a mandated break to break our fast and clear our heads of the "if-thens" and "elses" of the code that had started to infest our heads...
The SITE building was on one end of campus and Iftar was in the University Centre (shortened to the Uni-Centre, because what's the fun in saying the whole name of anything?), and we had two options to get there:
- Follow the long, wining path of tunnels through about 5 buildings, zigzagging across campus from the inside to avoid the cold.
- Take your jacket, go upstairs and brave the elements in what was a shorter trek than in 1, but also a colder trek.
I used to alternate between the two, depending on how much time I had, how cold it was, how long of a break I was affording myself for this communal fast-breaking and prayer.
In the Uni-Centre, dates were passed around or set on a table. Milk or water in Styrofoam or plastic cups was also there, and the desks had been pushed aside in the small room to make space for prayer. Half the time, you didn't know half the people you were breaking fast with, after all, this was a campus of thousands of students, in thousands of programs, and you overlapped here because you were Muslim, and you had class or lab keeping you here to this hour, and so weren't already home. Regardless, you said salaam (peace, our greeting in Islam), you said taqabbal Allah (May God accept your good deeds), and there was a sense of being in it together, of having spent the last 12 or 13 hours in a state of un-having, of emptiness of material so you could fill yourself with something else, some form of perspective, or discipline, or appreciation for the rest of the world, who fasted, not voluntarily so many days of the year. After prayer there were tables set up for big foil containers filled with rice and salad and chicken. If we were lucky, there was samosa, every one's absolute favourite. The food came from people in the community, and it was free: in Islam, we believe there is a great reward for helping the fasting break their fast.
We would sit on the floor or lean against the pushed-back tables and desks, those with classes and labs to get back to eating quickly, those with a little more time winding down. We'd learn each other's names, forget, and ask again a week later when we happened to overlap at another iftar. We'd clean up and go.
This was one of the things I missed most about university, this ad-hoc coming together of a community in a place where the world doesn't revolve around your traditions, where the days are not cut short during your month of fasting and the schedules made more lax. Last night, I felt it again at the McGill MSA iftar. There is something about students and student culture. Something more fluid, more flexible than at the office, where things are set and established, and it's really very... nice. I sat with girls I'd never met and some whom I'd met once or twice, or three WHOLE times, and laughed and talked and got to know them better. We turned the cafeteria into an iftar hall, pulling tables together and pushing them back when it was over. There were those same, massive foil pans filled with rice and salad and a pot full of delicious, Indian style meat. There were taqabbal Allah's and come again's exchanged. I think I will.
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
For One Month
This is Ramadan. Between dawn and sunset, we don't eat. We don't drink. We don't ingest in basically any form (because I've had questions about chewing gum, popping mints, cigarettes, etc. But no ingesting happens. Nothing.) Before dawn, most Muslims will get up to eat something in order to go the rest of the day without. After a couple of days, the hunger pangs tend to subside and you get used to feeling a little emptier. One of the hardest parts for me is going without the coffee. I've taken to just drinking it before dawn...
The other, less talked about aspect of Ramadan is controlling your temper and behaviour. The food we don't eat is really more of an outward manifestation of the self-control we're supposed to exhibit through out every aspect of our lives. It's almost what I'd call a spiritual-detox period. We use this time to get back on track in our habits, our behaviours, our spiritual / ritual devotions, etc. Things we've let creep in that we don't like, we try to stop. Things we've let slip by the way-side that we want to do, we pick back up. It's like New Year's Resolutions in some ways, except for one month, as the whole community prays together, fasts together, and spends more time together, the hope is that the resolutions won't be broken a few days later, but become ingrained into our daily lives, at least for a while.
Happy Ramadan to all!
The other, less talked about aspect of Ramadan is controlling your temper and behaviour. The food we don't eat is really more of an outward manifestation of the self-control we're supposed to exhibit through out every aspect of our lives. It's almost what I'd call a spiritual-detox period. We use this time to get back on track in our habits, our behaviours, our spiritual / ritual devotions, etc. Things we've let creep in that we don't like, we try to stop. Things we've let slip by the way-side that we want to do, we pick back up. It's like New Year's Resolutions in some ways, except for one month, as the whole community prays together, fasts together, and spends more time together, the hope is that the resolutions won't be broken a few days later, but become ingrained into our daily lives, at least for a while.
Happy Ramadan to all!
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Coffee Snob?
I've been drinking the good stuff on a regular basis since I was about 15 - the nearly three hour commute to get to and from my fabulous high school five days a week, plus my lack of self control, really cemented any chance I had of sticking to orange juice to just wake me up.
For years, I kept it to myself and only drank the coffee out of the house. The reason: my mother, who is the most health conscious person I know, abhorred (and abhors) caffeine.
I remember a funny coffee related incident the summer after I finished high school, on my way to a trip to Egypt with my kid sister for a few weeks. We were in the car, on our way to Montreal to catch our flight with my mom and dad, and I suddenly felt the urge to confess.
"Mama," I said, "I have to tell you something terrible."
"Yes?" she asked.
"I drink coffee. I drink it EVERYDAY."
My mom laughed and nodded and said something like "I figured".
I've always preferred a "real" coffee - Second Cup, Timothy's, Starbucks - to a Timmy's or the instant stuff, but the bottom line is that I just have to get my fix, and I'll take it however I can get it (see my trying to quit posts from last Ramadan for further proof). I also like the real cappuccinos from Second Cup WAY more than the sugar-filled stuff at Timmy's.
The reason I'm even thinking about any of this is that this morning on CBC radio (my favourite station ever!), they were doing blind taste tests in TO, having people sample instant vs. really brewed coffee in the streets and seeing which they preferred. Most seem to prefer the real brew, but it seems there are more than expected who like their coffee with "three crystals of Folgers, Half a cup of cream and five tablespoons of sugar" as the radio host said - Yuck!
When I'd first started going into "Proper" coffee stores, I would try not to laugh or roll my eyes as I heard people order the complex sounding names. You know, the "I'll have a non-fat, extra foam, double shot, extra hot soy latte" order? Well, when I first discovered my allergies to milk, my ability to drink Lattes was shot in the foot. I also had to avoid the sugar, but I loved my fancy coffee drinks so much that I HAD to find a way to solve the "milk free, sugar free" coffee crisis. I scoured the various coffee shops until I discovered Timothy's "sugar free vanilla syrup", which they could use with soy milk to produce my "small soy vanilla sugar free latte". I suddenly felt like just as much of a coffee snob as those I was laughing about...
I've since eased up, I only treat myself to a soy latte about once every two months now, and most days I just get a regular coffee and allow myself a little bit of milk or cream in my coffee. I don't avoid all milk or sugar products any more, I just make sure to keep it to a minimum and that seems to keep me ok.
For years, I kept it to myself and only drank the coffee out of the house. The reason: my mother, who is the most health conscious person I know, abhorred (and abhors) caffeine.
I remember a funny coffee related incident the summer after I finished high school, on my way to a trip to Egypt with my kid sister for a few weeks. We were in the car, on our way to Montreal to catch our flight with my mom and dad, and I suddenly felt the urge to confess.
"Mama," I said, "I have to tell you something terrible."
"Yes?" she asked.
"I drink coffee. I drink it EVERYDAY."
My mom laughed and nodded and said something like "I figured".
I've always preferred a "real" coffee - Second Cup, Timothy's, Starbucks - to a Timmy's or the instant stuff, but the bottom line is that I just have to get my fix, and I'll take it however I can get it (see my trying to quit posts from last Ramadan for further proof). I also like the real cappuccinos from Second Cup WAY more than the sugar-filled stuff at Timmy's.
The reason I'm even thinking about any of this is that this morning on CBC radio (my favourite station ever!), they were doing blind taste tests in TO, having people sample instant vs. really brewed coffee in the streets and seeing which they preferred. Most seem to prefer the real brew, but it seems there are more than expected who like their coffee with "three crystals of Folgers, Half a cup of cream and five tablespoons of sugar" as the radio host said - Yuck!
When I'd first started going into "Proper" coffee stores, I would try not to laugh or roll my eyes as I heard people order the complex sounding names. You know, the "I'll have a non-fat, extra foam, double shot, extra hot soy latte" order? Well, when I first discovered my allergies to milk, my ability to drink Lattes was shot in the foot. I also had to avoid the sugar, but I loved my fancy coffee drinks so much that I HAD to find a way to solve the "milk free, sugar free" coffee crisis. I scoured the various coffee shops until I discovered Timothy's "sugar free vanilla syrup", which they could use with soy milk to produce my "small soy vanilla sugar free latte". I suddenly felt like just as much of a coffee snob as those I was laughing about...
I've since eased up, I only treat myself to a soy latte about once every two months now, and most days I just get a regular coffee and allow myself a little bit of milk or cream in my coffee. I don't avoid all milk or sugar products any more, I just make sure to keep it to a minimum and that seems to keep me ok.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Are we good?
Dear Blog,
I'm sorry for the last week plus of neglect. I know I got your hopes up with constant writing and then kinda just left you hanging with no explanation. I know your number of hits have suffered as a result and there was little you could do without my getting back to it. I guess the following is a series of excuses for my erratic writing behaviour.
- Wedding planning: A couple of months ago, M and I sat down and came up with everything we needed to do, and then saw that we had "so much time" left to do it all and Ramadan was coming up, and in general things were just busy on other fronts so… we let it slide a little. And rightfully so. But now, the wedding is not getting any farther away and the stuff still needs to get done. It's fun, but very very time consuming (and I like to think we're keeping it pretty low-key and I'm not being an insane Bride-zilla, but it's just something that takes A LOT of time)
- I can't wear my hijab because WHAT?: So, lucky for me, I'm a federal government and not a provincial government employee. The Quebec provincial government is considering passing a law to disallow "ostentatious religious symbols" a la France, in public life. So my fellow hijabi's would be told to take off their hijabs or not come to work. Same with Orthodox Jews who cover their heads. Same with Sikhs. Same with Christians wearing crosses. Oh wait, what's that you say? Christians with crosses are welcome to keep wearing them? Well, then, I guess this isn't about keeping society secular after-all… Needless to say, I've very very concerned, upset, hurt about this whole debacle. I'm not sure what's so threatening to Quebec society about little old me in a headscarf, (or any other piece of clothing for that matter) or how it would interfere with my ability to do my job as a public servant, teacher, etc… And whatever happened to a woman's right to choose what she wore? Why doesn't forcing me to take off my hijab equate to oppression the same way forcing someone to wear one would? ... So, I've been trying to let as many ppl know to write their MPP's about it if they live in Quebec, and just generally to spread the word and stay on top of the issue.
- Hockey: Ramadan is over, and the hockey season is young, and for a Habs fan like me who's been starving for good old Canadiens' hockey since that dreaded game last April (which they lost, resulting in their missing the play-offs), the time is NOW to catch up on what Les Boys are up to. So far so good. We have a young team (note the use of "we". I often talk as though I, not Guy Carbonneau, am the coach of the team) and we're still making lots of mistakes, but our young guys are a year more experienced, our overall level of effort is much more consistent than last year, and our newbies (rookies and free agents) are turning out to be an overall improvement over the bunch that left at the end of last year. Overall, I like the class of 2007-2008, though I wish Carbo would stop giving Kostopoulous so much ice time.
- Rain, Baaaaaaah!: Yes, I know this is a lousy excuse, but I'm anti-rain, and when it rains I lose all creative/expressive abilities… and we've been getting a lot of rain lately, so…
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Eid-ing
Here's a funny little anecdote about my Eid prayer yesterday morning: As we walked into the already full Civic Centre hall for the prayer yesterday, I was holding the hand of my little angela as I like to call my niece. However, as she was having a hard time carrying her new doll (a gift from Grandma!) and negotiating her way through the crowd, she had handed me the doll while we were a few steps outside the hall. The result was that everyone who saw me at "adult height" level and couldn't see my little angela saw full-grown Noha walking in, all dressed up for Eid prayer, hugging a little doll. I got several looks, and several comments. Explanations were required. Hopefully, all is now cleared up ;)
But seriously, there's nothing more wonderful than the excitement of a little child to make Eid a really special occasion. My niece thought Eid was a person, and - not yet understanding the abstract concept of an event "coming" - she kept waiting for him to show up at the front door. By the end of yesterday though, I think she'd figured out that Eid is gathering of many people (all of whom lean down and look at her, give her hugs and kisses, and then turn to her mother and exclaim how she's grown!), the eating of chocolate and other tasty treats, the opening of presents, and just generally the having of fun.
I had a really great time, and have come down with a vicious cold to prove it (hey, you can't gather more than 5 thousand people in a place for a party in Ottawa in mid-October for 7-plus hours and expect to get away without catching something!)
I also had my first non-home-made Spelt chocolate cake (purchased by the wonderful M) from "The Wild Oat" on Bank and Fourth Avenue. If you're wheat-allergic, or celiac (they do egg-free, sugar-free and dairy-free stuff too), go! You'll find a lot of yummy stuff. My taste buds have been very happy since I discovered this store a few months ago. (I promise I don't work at the Wild Oat, and they're not paying me for this endorsement.)
Tomorrow, it's back to work, and back to 8 a.m. - as opposed to 5 a.m. - coffee. But even though I'm having coffee at a normal hour again, I hope that I can carry some of the Ramadan momentum into my regular routine. Like being more patient, more considerate, all that good stuff I don't always think about enough. My mom always says Ramadan's like a spiritual gas station, and you've got to fill up.
But seriously, there's nothing more wonderful than the excitement of a little child to make Eid a really special occasion. My niece thought Eid was a person, and - not yet understanding the abstract concept of an event "coming" - she kept waiting for him to show up at the front door. By the end of yesterday though, I think she'd figured out that Eid is gathering of many people (all of whom lean down and look at her, give her hugs and kisses, and then turn to her mother and exclaim how she's grown!), the eating of chocolate and other tasty treats, the opening of presents, and just generally the having of fun.
I had a really great time, and have come down with a vicious cold to prove it (hey, you can't gather more than 5 thousand people in a place for a party in Ottawa in mid-October for 7-plus hours and expect to get away without catching something!)
I also had my first non-home-made Spelt chocolate cake (purchased by the wonderful M) from "The Wild Oat" on Bank and Fourth Avenue. If you're wheat-allergic, or celiac (they do egg-free, sugar-free and dairy-free stuff too), go! You'll find a lot of yummy stuff. My taste buds have been very happy since I discovered this store a few months ago. (I promise I don't work at the Wild Oat, and they're not paying me for this endorsement.)
Tomorrow, it's back to work, and back to 8 a.m. - as opposed to 5 a.m. - coffee. But even though I'm having coffee at a normal hour again, I hope that I can carry some of the Ramadan momentum into my regular routine. Like being more patient, more considerate, all that good stuff I don't always think about enough. My mom always says Ramadan's like a spiritual gas station, and you've got to fill up.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Worst Confession Ever
There's a McDonald's across the street from Work, and on my way home today, I had the HUGEST craving. Thankfully, it's the last day of Ramadan, and so the craving could not be acted on. See why fasting is good for you?
p.s. Happy Eid to all!!
p.s. Happy Eid to all!!
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Coffee Dilemna
If you recall, ages ago (aka roughly last year) I planned to quit coffee, and successfully did so... for 2-3 weeks, before work/life got hectic again and I just needed one which eventually spiraled into just needing another, and another, and, well, you get the picture. Earlier this summer, I copped to my addiction and faced the fact that for the time being, I'm not going to stress myself over quitting and feel bad for something for no good reason (it's like, either fix it or forget about it. Guilt without action is pointless, even destructive as far as I'm concerned, at least for a measly coffee addiction that's hurting no one but me, and even that only a little bit.)
All of this, of course, is a prelude to a "but..." - 'what's the 'but', Noha?' you ask? Well, the but is that Ramadan is soon, as in tomorrow, and during Ramadan we don't eat or drink between dawn and sunset, and that, of course, includes not drinking coffee. For a few years, the first few days of Ramadan have always been difficult for me for this reason - not because I can't eat, or because I don't drink water, but because I don't get my caffeine fix, and so it would only be logical that as Ramadan approaches, I phase coffee out gradually, so the lack of caffination doesn't hit me like a ton of bricks tomorrow.
Now, ask me if I phased out the coffee gradually over the last few days. Go ahead, ask: Did you phase the coffee out, like a reasonable, future-looking person would, as the inevitable approached?
NO! No, I didn't phase it out. I drank my usual mug every morning. In fact, I even went from a medium to a large the last couple of days, not because I'd gotten especially less sleep than usual, but just on a whim, just because I figured I was gonna miss the coffee.
So there. There's my confession. If I seem groggy or just kind of out of it if you run into me over the next few days, you'll know why...
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