Less is More

Fasting again, have been for several days, making that slow, deep descent. There are metaphors that accompany these observances for me. The special evening prayer of Ramadan, the tarawih, is like building an arch. But the month itself is descending a staircase. Gravely, day by day, step by step. Getting to the bottom of things.

Last time I wrote I was wondering about the association of this fast with ease. The Qur'an grants us the exemptions (travel, illness) with the comment, "God desires ease for you, He does not desire difficulty for you." A paradox, since the fast itself looks difficult from the outside, and sometimes feels so. But what makes it hard, when it's hard? Anxiety, mostly, concerning change of habit or minor physical discomfort. In ordinary life we grant such restrainers great power over our potentials and our actions. Obliged briefly to overrule them, we are surprised to find ourselves able to do so. I'm stronger than I thought! The boogeyman that keeps me locked up, inert, is much weaker than I'd dreamed. The discovery is exhilarating. It feels good not to be afraid. Ramadan can be a laboratory of human freedom.

Writers tend to be couch potatoes. We spend a lot of time in front of computers, or scribbling in notebooks, or intently turning pages, or staring into space. So a couple of years ago when I was suddenly bitten by the body bug and started working out for the first time, I found out something elementary that changed my life.

It turns out there are two kinds of pain. There is workout pain, which is about stretching. It hurts a little to increase the possibilities of the physical world you inhabit, and you have to persevere in that hurt awhile, but the payoff is grand. When you feel this pain, you're growing.

And then there is injury, which is the result of abuse, whether intentional or otherwise. Injury interferes with function, makes your world smaller. This pain signals you that something is wrong.

Once you learn how to pay attention, the two kinds of pain feel radically different. It's pretty simple to distinguish them. (Athletic folks, don't laugh. We soft livers really don't know these things.) One of them warns of real difficulty, while the other is breaking through to ease.

Facing a planet as out of balance as ours is today, people of conscience born into privilege are starting to talk about voluntary simplicity. It's all very altruistic, and motivated largely by fear. The notion of abandoning our national self-indulgence has a certain dolorous tinge to it. Yet maybe losing a little flab, a little inertia, a little daily sloppiness is to our direct advantage. Could be it takes a little workout, to discover the benefits. Fasting is one approach. For without imposing upon its students the injuries of poverty, Ramadan teaches us that less having means more being.